The Office of Soldier
by The Sickness
Summary: The students at the barricade all have a more intricate history than what is given. Their battle is far more intense. And who exactly decided their fate? Please R&R.
1. Part I: A Loaf of Bread

Many things had happened in the nation of France before this certain significant story began. Early in its history, a loaf of bread had been stolen to preserve the life of an afflicted niece, and its theft had brought on a torrential wind of cause and effect that swept through hundreds of lives and forever established a gray area between what we perceive as good and evil. The aforementioned thief of goods and breaker of window panes spent nineteen years in prison; five years for the crime itself, the rest for four attempts at escape. As a convict, he was known as only prisoner number 24,601. When released from the galleys in 1815, he retained that brand upon his chest, and thus failed to shed it.

This dreary life was changed upon the visitation of a kindly bishop who took him in and offered him food, shelter, and the comfort of a bed to sleep upon. Though perhaps minutely touched by these kind gifts, the ex-convict took it upon himself to steal from a basket precious silver plates, knives, and accessories of mealtimes. He was again apprehended not far form the bishop's abode, where he made his case that the items had been further gifts of the kind Monsieur. To his own incredible shock, the bishop collaborated upon this tale, and presented him with two silver candlesticks in addition. The condition of this silver was this: In exchange, the man must become honest and upright in his citizenship, and must strive to become a better person. The bishop had bought his soul for God.

And thus, prisoner number 24,601 became the man named by birth and rebirth Jean Valjean.

This man would reappear as Monsieur Madeleine, otherwise referred to as M'sieur Mayor. Not only was he mayor of a small town, but he was the employer of factory workers, whom he hired without question and had only one request thereof: "Be an honest man!" "Be an honest woman!" One worker in particular began to stand out amongst the rest: This woman's name was Fantine, and Valjean's employment of her was another spark to the growing trail of oil.

Fantine had a daughter, Cosette, whose care she had entrusted to a man and a woman by the name of Thenadier. They were innkeepers, and had a girl-child of their own named Eponine. She sent a sum of money to these sitters each month. They were separated by miles. The absence of her husband gave her no other preferable choice. Her less-than-socially-acceptable situation was found out through a letter stolen by a factory girl, whose disposition towards Fantine was far less than favorable. The accusations of her honor began a fight broken up by Monsieur Madeleine, and further decided by the foreman, whose advances toward what he thought to be a "virtuous virgin" now left him red-faced and ashamed. Her fate was sealed. She was sent on her way to find work elsewhere.

That elsewhere was the docks, frequented by both sailors and "working girls" of the time. Fantine was desperate; she stooped as low to sell her hair for ten francs in order to pay for Cosette's up-bringing. Eventually, unable to think of what would happen to her child if she stayed unemployed, she offered herself to a pimp who allowed her to join his league of prostitutes. Her first customer, however, was a dirty, stinking rat named Bamatabois. His money refused, he attempted to force Fantine, but the strong-willed woman clawed his face and made her escape. Unfortunately, it was a flight into the arms of Javert, the town's feared and abhorred chief of police. As Bamatabois had a better reputation than a whore on the street, he was able to convince Javert to buy his story that Fantine had attacked him, displaying her mark for him to cast his cold eyes upon. Javert's arrest of Fantine was interrupted by the convenient appearance of Monsieur Madeleine, who listened attentively to Fantine's description of the previous events. He was stunned and sickened to hear that this woman had fallen to depravity because of his allowance of the foreman to fire her from his factory. The guilt and his promise made his decision for him. He released her over the protests of a scowling, fuming Javert.

It would seem now that Jean Valjean had made quite a life for himself. He had taken up a new name and occupation; instead of thief, he was now a dignified mayor, whose town prospered like never before. He had even done the justice of releasing an innocent woman from his over-zealous police services. His boat was rocked almost to the point of capsizing when Javert reported a startling apprehension: He had found an old jailbird who broke his parole years ago, and had since changed his name, but had been caught in some menial crime and recognized as the criminal from the galleys where Javert had once worked. This man's name was Jean Valjean.

For some time, Valjean and his conscience debated over his course of action. Could he really allow himself to stand idly by when a man of no guilt was being accused of his former crimes? Could he ignore that goodness that the bishop had instilled in him so long ago? Was this being an honest man? Feverish with the overwhelming need to do that which was right, Valjean visited the courthouse, interrupting the trial of the man with a phenomenal announcement:  
"Who am I? I'm Jean Valjean!"

Eyes burning with conviction and perhaps flames of inner redemption, he turned himself to Javert, whose own wide eyes and slack jaw attested to the fact that he was as agog as everyone else in the courtroom.

"And so you see, Javert, it's true," here he gestured to the innocent man, "this man holds no more guilt than you! Who am I?"

Valjean ripped open his shirt, exposing the telltale number upon his chest. 

"2-4-6-0-1!"

He fled the courtroom, where he was summoned to the bed of an overworked, ill, and dying Fantine. In her state of affliction, she saw children playing before her, and reached out for Cosette's apparition. Valjean came to her side, holding the livid and clammy hand of this fine woman reduced to rags and illness because of him.

"Oh, Fantine, our time is running out. But Fantine, I swear this on my life--"

"Look, M'sieur, where all the children play!"

"Be at peace -- be at peace evermore..."

"My Cosette," Fantine began, voice rattling with the song of death.

"Shall live in my protection," Valjean assured.

"Take her now," she pleaded with some urgency.

"Your child will want for nothing," he said softly, gripping the hand shimmering with cold sweat. Fantine looked upon his face; he could not tell what she must be thinking or seeing at that moment, but suddenly her pain seemed not so much.

"Good M'sieur, you come from God in Heaven!"

"And none shall ever harm Cosette as long as I am living!"

"Take my hand... the night grows ever colder..."

"Then I will keep you warm," Valjean said, draping over her a blanket. He did not mention that he had all this time been holding her hand.

"Take my child -- I give her to your keeping."

"Take shelter from the storm."

"For God's sake, please stay till I am sleeping. And tell Cosette I love her and I'll see her when I wake!" This was Fantine's last request, and her last utterance in this world. She died with a smile. Javert arrived. Valjean, without hesitation, threatened Javert's life and swore to Fantine's shell that he would care for Cosette as his own, just as Javert swore to Valjean that he would be there to arrest him when the time came. On his way out, Valjean rendered Javert unconscious and escaped into the night.

Meanwhile, Cosette had lived a poor and painful life of despair. She was the Thenadier's slave and object of ridicule. Madame Thenadier, on one particular evening, sent her out on her own into the wood to fetch water for the diners in the inn. It was there that Valjean found her, trembling and cold in the shadows, and brought her back to the tavern. He settled a debt with the Thenadier's for Cosette's removal and took her away with him. They were not heard from again until 1832.

On the streets of Paris at this time, a crowd had gathered in riot to beg for mercy and for money as rich passerby's made their way through the square. Unheard, a small urchin boy stepped forward to announce his role and importance. This boy was Gavroche. We will see him again.

Amongst the din of arguing and begging poor, students of the academy came forth onto the street, a look of anger, pity, and bemusement crossing their faces. They established themselves onto the bridge to overlook the chaotic scene.

"Where are the leaders of the land? Where are the swells who run this show?" demanded Enjolras. He was well-dressed, with neat, fine blonde hair that grew to his cheekbones. His commanding appearance was shadowed for a moment by another student, one of darker features that made him considerably handsome.

"Only one man, and that's Lamarque, speaks for these people here below." Speaking the general's name upset a cry of mercy from those assembled.

"Lamarque is ill and fading fast," Marius continued. "Won't last the week, or so they say!"

"With all the anger in the land, how long before the judgment day? Before we cut the fat ones down to size?" He looked around, an expression of determination flooding his features. "Before the barricades arise?"

This, too, holds great importance. It is what our story will be about in time.

Meanwhile, Thenadier and his gang sauntered into the square, gathering for a meeting. Eponine, older and strikingly beautiful, noticed the equally handsome Marius and separated herself from her parents to be with him. Their conversation turned flirtatious; it was at that point that a rich man and his daughter arrived. The Thenadier's and their gang immediately turned their focus upon the old man, pulling him away from his daughter, who bumped into Marius just as Eponine left the scene. Awestruck by each other's beauty, they gazed longingly for a moment before Marius recalled his manners.

"I didn't see you there -- forgive me," he stammered.

An attempted robbery on the old man triggered Monsieur Thenadier's memory.

"Men like me don't forget! You're the bastard who borrowed Cosette!"

"What is this?!" the old man demanded. "Are you mad?" Thenadier ripped open his shirt, exposing the brand: 24601. "No, M'sieur, you don't know what you do!"

"You know me, you know me!" Thenadier bellowed. "I'm a con, just like you!"

Eponine burst through then:

"It's the police! Disappear! Run for it! It's Javert!"

Valjean and Cosette, the daughter he had come with, disappeared in the confusion and pandemonium. Javert, near to arresting Thenadier and his gang, was struck by the revelation that the old man ran because he was a convict. Thenadier enlightened him as to the identity of the convict, and Javert in turn pledged to bring him to justice, chasing Thenadier off the streets for the time being.

Moments afterward Javert himself left, Eponine wandered back into the street, her uneducated mind managing to be pensive and thoughtful. Cosette was there, after all those years? She met Marius, who had gone looking for Cosette, and stepped in his way to make conversation with him. Yet all Marius could think about was the beautiful girl he had seen; he did not see Eponine's beauty, nor her growing devotion. Knowing Eponine's reputation, he begged her to find this woman, and after some reluctance, she agreed to. She did not tell him her reasons.

The students from the street met afterwards in the ABC Cafe, where Enjolras led them in revolutionary plans to liberate all of France from the cruelty and poverty that so reigned. Their names were Combeferre, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Joly, Grantaire, and Jean Prouvaire. Marius had not yet arrived. Already they had begun handing out flyers to the townspeople speaking of their cause, and already Enjolras's ambition was spreading to each student. It was as infectious as it was headstrong. When Marius finally did arrive, he received playful verbal assault as to his obsession with the girl in the street. Shrugging off these words, he joined Enjolras in his quest for freedom.

Gavroche arrived. He had a message. General Lamarque was dead.

Now that there was no one to lead the people, Enjolras was certain he could fill that role. He encouraged all the students to come out into the street once more, where they made their plea to the people with declarations of power and riches for everyone. Every man would be a king. With the support of the people, he led them under the red flag of revolution to the heart of the city.

In her garden at Rue Plumet, Cosette contemplated the stranger she had met amongst the poor. Valjean assured her that she would one day understand why he held so many secrets within, and left her to her thoughts just as Marius and Eponine arrived outside the gate. Marius left her waiting for him while he climbed over the fence to find Cosette. Once he had found her, he gave her his name with much trembling, and she gave him hers. Outside, Eponine struggled with the realization that she had never held claim to Marius. They moved out of her sight, and she ducked behind some foliage as Montparnasse, one of her father's gang members, fiddled with the lock on the gate.

Monsieur Thenadier had tracked Valjean to his home in Rue Plumet, and had brought along his gang for an attack. Brujon, anxious for his pay, found Eponine hiding as he searched for a quicker way in. Thenadier did not recognize her at first, but the matter was cleared up as Babet reminded him that he was looking at his own daughter. He attempted to send her home, but she broke free of Brujon and pushed aside the men.

"I know this house, I tell you! There's nothing here for you! Just the old man and the girl! They live ordinary lives!"

Thenadier pushed his daughter into Brujon.

"Don't interfere! You've got some gall! Take care, young miss, you've got a lot to say!"

"She's going soft!" Brujon teased, tossing her into Claquesous.

"Happens to all!" growled the fiend, throwing her to Montparnasse.

"Go home, 'Ponine, go home! You're in the way!"

"I'm going to scream! I'm going to warn them here!" she hissed.

"One little scream, and you'll regret it for a year!" challenged Monsieur Thenadier. The gang circled round, brutality shining with bestial intent in their eyes, and began to close in upon the girl. Thinking only of Marius and condemning herself to abandonment by her father, she took in a deep breath.

"Well, I told you I'd do it, told you I'd do it..."

She screamed.

"Make for the sewers! Go underground! Leave her to me! Don't wait around!" Thenadier turned to Eponine, grabbing her by the hair. "You win my girl, but you'll rue this night! I'll make you scream -- you'll scream, all right!" He could not shake the pride in her eyes, and left her to fend for herself. She began to flee, but Marius and Cosette came to the gate, where he hurriedly introduced the two before Eponine ran for cover. Marius followed just as Valjean came to his daughter's side. Cosette lied, saying that the cry he heard was her own, and that she had seen shadows moving about the walls. Assuming that it was Javert catching up to him, Valjean and Cosette prepare to leave for Calais, and then across the sea afterward.

In the morning, Marius bids farewell to Cosette, both vowing to love each other forever and wait for one another until they are together again. Valjean rejoices that they have made it to another day, while Eponine laments that she has truly lost whatever affection Marius may have had for her. Cosette leaves, and Enjolras approaches Marius with the students, convincing him to join their cause. The people back up this movement while Javert watches from the shadows, trading in his police garments for the disguise of a rebel. He gives his own vow to quell the people's voices, paying no attention to the Thenadier's as they prepare for the riches they may plunder as soldiers fall. Marius, with conviction, joins the revolutionaries and begins the building of the barricade.

And this is only the history of our tale. It is now that the real story begins.


	2. Part II: The Barricade

IN POSITION

  


Enjolras had picked out a spot layered heavily with stones, upon which he stood and addressed the revolutionaries with the confident authority of a true leader. His distinguished features glared with strong affection upon the friends and strangers gathered at his feet.

"Here upon these stones, we will build a barricade!" he declared. "In the heart of the city we claim as our own! Each man to his duty and don't be afraid." He watched as the people of the barricade began to disperse into individual tasks, then held up his hand as a memory stirred. "Wait! I will need a report on the strength of the foe!"

"I can find out the truth," a volunteer offered. His coat was very dirty and threadbare at the elbows. His face, partially concealed in the grimy collar of the coat, was dark with smudges of soot. "I know their ways -- served my time, fought their wars in the days of my youth." Enjolras nodded to him after a moment, and he was on his way. He did not think much about the rebel.

"Now the people will fight!" Prouvaire said, helping a woman with a large chair place it up upon a bench being used as a base. Grantaire shrugged and helped to stabilize the movement.

"And so they might. Dogs will bark, fleas will bite."

"They will do what is right," Lesgles said, as confident as Enjolras had been. And that was why he was a successful leader: He could inspire any emotion in any man, despite his own stoicism. Grantaire, Prouvaire, Lesgles, and Feuilly continued to help the poor with supplies for the barricade with Enjolras supervising and planning structures with some of the old carpenters and architects. Marius approached his side and was stalled as his eyes wandered to a familiar looking boy. He turned his head toward the urchin.

"Hey, little boy," he called, "what's this I see?" As the boy looked directly at him, he recognized the features better and sighed in wonder. It was Eponine. "God, Eponine, the things you do!"

"I know this is no place for me," she said softly, with a sad smile that was quite her own. "Still, I would rather be with you."

"Get out before the trouble starts." Marius looked about, worried, and touched her shoulder for emphasis. She put on a pouty expression and planted her feet, holding her ground despite his efforts. "Get out, 'Ponine, you might get shot!" At the show of concern, Eponine's expression turned to a sly happiness, the kind only known to women.

"I've got you worried, now, I have!" she said gleefully, and hope sparkled in her powerful black eyes. "That shows you like me quite a lot!"

Marius sighed and ran his hand through his thick, dark brown hair. Eponine was stubborn and headstrong, much as he had been in his childhood. But she was brave, as she had shown at Rue Plumet, risking her life for him...

It dawned on him.

"There is a way that you can help!" he cried, taking her by the shoulders. "You are the answer to a prayer!" Eponine watched, confused, as he took a letter from his pocket and pressed it into her hands with a smile. "Please take this letter to Cosette, and pray to God that she's still there!"

There were a few moments in which she did not move or respond. Then she pocketed the letter and sighed, touching his hair tenderly, but with a certain aloofness.

"Little you know... little you care..."

Enjolras, standing on an already half-completed barricade, watched Eponine leave Marius. His heart swelled unnaturally. Poor girl, he thought.

The walk to Rue Plumet was a long one. Unnoticed, she had earlier accompanied Marius to the barricade along with the students and sympathizers of the revolution. At his side, it had seemed such a short endeavor. Not nearly enough time to take in his smooth features, strong jaw, or intense eyes. To smell his sweet, natural scent. To bask in the ethereal glow of his spirit. Now, walking back to that detested place where she had lost everything, including her Marius, it seemed as if years would pass before she could go back to him.

The gate was just being shut as she arrived. The old man had no knowledge of her gender or identity; she approached with shoulders back and cap pulled forward over her brow.

"I have a letter, M'sieur. It's addressed to your daughter Cosette." Valjean looked at her without interest. "It's from a boy at the barricade, sir, in the Rue de Villette."

"Give that letter here, my boy," Valjean said after hearing of its origin. Eponine handed over the letter with reluctance, wary of his intentions with it.

"He said to give it to Cosette," she hesitated.

"You have my word that my daughter will know what this letter contains." Valjean took a coin out of his pocket and pressed it into her hand with more affection than Marius had pressed the letter. "Tell him she will read it tomorrow, and here's for your pains. Go careful, now, stay out of sight. There's danger in the streets tonight." He opened the letter, and Eponine retreated into the shadows, a good distance away, but close enough to hear his voice as he read the text aloud. "'Dearest Cosette, you have entered my soul, and soon you will be gone. Can it be only a day since we met and the world was reborn? If I should fall in the battle to come, let this be my goodbye." Here Eponine swallowed hard at the thought. "Now that I know you love me, as well, it is harder to die. I pray that God will bring me home to be with you. Pray for your Marius -- he prays for you!'" Not knowing the damage he had done, Valjean folded the letter once more into its original shape and locked the gates of Rue Plumet, retreating into his house. He left Eponine alone under unfriendly, darkening skies.

"And now I'm all alone again -- nowhere to turn, no one to go to," she muttered, starting off for the position of the barricade. Her heart was heavy, and the constriction of her throat burned. She was going to cry. "Without a home, without a friend, without a face to say 'hello' to..." She lifted the cap to see the sky. "But now the night is near... Now I can make believe he's here."

With a practiced gait, she dodged broken glass and sharp rocks that would pierce the thin soles of her ragged shoes. "Sometimes I walk alone at night, when everybody else is sleeping." Indeed, the candles were out in the small tenements along the road. "I think of him, and then I'm happy with the company I'm keeping. The city goes to bed," Eponine shivered as a chilled breeze shook the trees and fluttered her coat. A small smile worked its way onto her lips. "And I can live inside my head."

Stars pierced the clouds. "On my own, pretending he's beside me. All alone, I walk with him till morning." Beside her appeared the incorporeal form of the handsome Marius, walking with his arm in hers, smiling all the while and gazing lovingly at her face. She breathed in deeply and with less effort now that the image had been conjured. "Without him, I feel his arms around me, and when I've lost my way I close my eyes..." She did so. A light, non-existent kiss on her cheek made her open them again. "And he has found me!

"In the rain, the pavement shines like silver. All the lights are misty in the river." As she passed the Seine, she felt compelled by the will-o'-the-wisp glows in its rushing, ever-changing depths. "In the darkness, the trees are full of starlight, and all I see is him and me forever and forever." The world, once dark and forbidding, lit up just for her with a magic only Marius (or thoughts of him) could produce. She twirled, as if dancing with an unknown partner, and came to stop in the middle of the street.

"And I know it's only in my mind," she said, smile fading into a look of sad grit. "That I'm talking to myself, and not to him." Her gaze fell to the ground. "And although I know that he is blind, still I say there's a way for us.

"I love him, but when the night is over he is gone; the river's just a river." The lights faded, and blackness drew in around her like menacing hounds to stifle her breathing. "Without him, the world around me changes -- the trees are bare, and everywhere the streets are full of strangers!"

Eponine tilted her head to look upon God, shrouded in clouds. "I love him, but everyday I'm learning all my life I've only been pretending! Without me, his world will go on turning. A world that's full of happiness that I have never known!"

It was beginning the drizzle a cold rain. She wrapped her coat more tightly around her body and began the walk back to the barricade. "I love him," she whispered thrice. "But only on my own."


	3. More Than What Was Bargained For

MORE THAN WHAT WAS BARGAINED FOR

  


The barricade had been completed. The students stood around it, berets over their hearts, their expressions a tug-of-war between somber and excited.

"Now we pledge our lives to hold this barricade," they chorused, and replaced their caps.

"Let them come in their legions, and they will be met!" Marius shouted. He was clapped on the back by several supporters.

"Have faith in yourselves," Enjolras instructed as he cleaned his pistol, "and don't be afraid."

"Let's give 'em a screwing that they'll never forget!" chortled Grantaire to the amusement of the rebels. Combeferre surveyed the barricade and the defenses surrounding it, and his face stoned. He folded his arms over his broad chest.

"This is where it begins," he said. Courfeyrac spoke as the laughter died down after Combeferre's words:

"And if I should die in the fight to be free, where the fighting is hardest, there will I be!"

"Let them come if they dare!" Feuilly challenged with bared teeth. "We'll be there!"

Enjolras solemnly watched the students and revolutionaries congratulate each other at the base of the barricade. His sights were not set so high. If half of them survived, it would be a miracle of God. No sense in telling them that, though, he thought. Morale can sometimes win or lose a battle.

"You at the barricade, listen to this!" a commanding voice echoed through a loud-bailer. Enjolras turned for the origin. Standing proudly upon a raised platform in full army uniform was an officer, rifle and bayonet pointing toward the ground as a sign of no hostility. The officer's uniform was almost entirely black, save for red trim around the outline of the jacket and shining brass buttons. A black beret shaded formidable green eyes. The rest of the revolutionaries turned in the direction Enjolras was looking. So far, there was only that one man to be seen. "No one is coming to help you to fight! You're on your own -- you have no friends! Give up your guns, or die!"

Enjolras regarded the malice with a glare of his own. The opposing forces locked gazes for a long time. Then, his duty done, the officer retreated down the platform and out of sight.

"Damn their warnings, damn their lies! They will see the people rise!" Enjolras promised.

"Damn their warnings, damn their lies! They will see the people rise!" was the echoed response.

"He's back!" Feuilly called from his sentry post. The volunteer that had been previously sent to enemy lines climbed over the barricade with limited difficulty and approached the group on the other side.

"Listen my friends, I have done as I said: I have been to their lines, I have counted each man, I will tell you what I can." He paused for a breath, and perhaps for dramatic effect. The students were attentive. "Better be warned: They have armies to spare, and the danger is real. We will need all our cunning to bring them to heel."

"Have faith!" Enjolras said. "If you know what their movements are, we'll spoil their game. There are ways that a people can fight! We shall overcome their power." He deliberately said it loud enough for all to hear. The rebels under his command needed as much assurance as possible.

"I have overheard their plans," the volunteer continued. "There will be no attack tonight. They intend to starve us out before they start a proper fight; concentrate their force; hit us from the right."

"Liar!"

Startled, the volunteer looked away from Enjolras and to a small boy standing behind him. The urchin was dirty and underfed, but still had a smug look about him that betrayed his fragile form. This boy, as was said that he would again be seen, was Gavroche. He folded his arms.

"Good evening, dear Inspector. Lovely evening, my dear." Gavroche looked at Enjolras. "I know this man, my friends, his name's Inspector Javert!" A gasp rose up from the crowd, and Enjolras's brows etched together in fury. "So don't believe a word he says, 'cause none of it's true." Combeferre and Courfeyrac seized Javert in his rebel disguise before he could flee. Gavroche approached nearer and pulled down Javert's coat collar to expose his scowling face. "It only goes to show what little people can do!

"And little people know when little people fight, we may look easy pickings but we've got some bite!" He struck the Inspector's jaw hard for a boy of his age. Javert bit down on his tongue. Angry blood flowed over his lower lip. "So never kick a dog because he's just a pup -- we'll fight like twenty armies and we won't give up. So you'd better run for cover when the pup grows up!"

"Good work, little Gavroche, you're the top of the class!" Grantaire praised. Prouvaire stuck Javert's head with the butt of his rifle.

"So what are we going to do with this snake in the grass?"

"Shoot him!" offered Courfeyrac.

"Tie this man and take him to the tavern. In there, the people will decide your fate, Inspector Javert!" Enjolras, while mentioning the spy's name, spit in his face; a disgrace to the officer's title.

"Take the bastard now and shoot him!" Courfeyrac repeated with more fervor. Enjolras sighed and patted his friend on the back, shaking his head, but this did not quell the anger rising in his troops.

"Let us watch the devil dance!" Feuilly called from the top of the barricade. Joly, the second sentry, echoed his desire.

"You'd have done the same, Inspector, if we'd let you have your chance!" Lesgles hissed. The people nodded in agreement. Javert raised his head high and sneered in Enjolras's face.

"Shoot me now, or shoot me later; every schoolboy to his sport!" he spat with insult in his tone. "Death to each and every traitor! I renounce your 'people's court'!"

"Though we may not all survive here, there are things that never die," Combeferre snarled in the policeman's ear. Javert hardly struggled against his captors, even as Grantaire's muzzle hovered before his left eye.

"What's the difference: Die a schoolboy, die a policeman, die a spy?" the rebel asked with a smirk. Enjolras batted away the rifle fiercely and pointed to the tavern. His face was red with anger at both Javert's deception of them all and his troops' preoccupation with vengeance.

"Take this man, bring him through! There is work we have to do!"

Combeferre and Courfeyrac tied Javert's hands together behind his back with rope and settled a sack over his head. They left him on a bench in the tavern, unable to see or move his arms. The door closed. Javert's world was of darkness and silence. It would not be the last time.

As the students regrouped behind the barricade, the first shots of the revolutionary movement rang out from the opposing side. The unarmed people crouched low to avoid the balls, but no hail of fire reached them. Joly and Feuilly loaded their weapons and lowered themselves between objects and the end of the barricade. The fire was not directed at them; someone was approaching, and quickly.

"There's a boy climbing the barricade!" Joly screamed. A stray bullet nicked his cheek and drew blood. The boy teetered at the top for a moment, then rolled down toward the students. Marius caught him and helped him to stand. He recognized the outfit.

"Good God, what are you doing?!" he demanded fiercely. Eponine looked up into his features and smiled shakily. Cold sweat danced on her cheeks and forehead. "'Ponine, have you no fear? Have you seen my beloved? Why have you come back here?"

"Took the letter like you said," she gasped, pushing him away as he took her hand with a grunt of pain. Marius did not understand at first. "Met her father... at the door..." She turned away from him to gather herself, swaying slightly. The gunfire stopped, and the students and people turned to watch. "Said he would give it..." Her legs gave out, and she fell onto her knees with a soft, pained laugh. "Don't think I can stand anymore."

Marius came around behind her and tried to pull her up. Holding her in his arms, his anger and confusion was washed away by a look of concern. "Eponine, what's wrong? I feel..." He sat upon a bench with her. His body shook before his mind registered what the texture was. "There's something wet upon your hair." He brought his arms away to look at his hands. They were stained thoroughly with blood. Her head fell into his lap, and he gathered her once more in his arms. Moving her coat lapels, he witnessed the hole in her chest and how the blood gushed forth from the gaping exit wound in her back. Her palm also had been ravaged, as if she had tried to stop it from entering her body. A jet of red fluid suddenly spurted from her wound. Her aorta had been damaged.

"Oh, God," he whispered as a part of him broke. "It's everywhere..."


	4. Events Leading Up to the First Mistake

EVENTS LEADING UP TO THE FIRST MISTAKE

  


"Don't you fret, M'sieur Marius," Eponine whispered, gritting her teeth. "I don't feel any pain." She was a brave, brave girl, Enjolras thought as he watched from a distance. Feuilly climbed down to care for Eponine, but he pushed the man back. Feuilly pleaded with Enjolras with his eyes, yet there was no swaying the commander. He knew there was no hope, however he also knew how to let someone die with dignity. "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt me now. You're here; that's all I need to know." Her hand reached up weakly to touch his cheek. Her fingertips were soft and warm on his skin, and her shaking seemed to quell a bit when they moved to his lips. "And you will keep me safe... and you... will keep me close. And rain will make the flowers grow."

"But you will live, 'Ponine," Marius said, more of a plea than a promise. His eyes burned with hot tears at her caress of his lips. "Dear God above! If I could heal your wounds with words of love!"

"Just hold me now, and let it be," Eponine said softly. He kissed her fingertips tenderly, and a new feeling rose in his agonized heart. That love he felt for Cosette; could it have truly been meant for this girl upon his lap? This soldier who had rather seen herself die than him? "Shelter me, comfort me..." Marius barely heard her over his own thoughts. Cradling her with one arm, he touched her hand with his own.

"You would live a hundred years if I could show you how. I won't desert you now." It was a promise he could keep to her after the pain he had involuntarily dealt. Tears of joy filled her glazing eyes.

"The rain can't hurt me now. This rain will wash away what's past. And you will keep me safe, and you will keep me close... I'll sleep in your embrace at last!" She seemed to muster a little strength, enough to touch his hair the way she had done on the street where he had left her for Cosette. So many images of Eponine suddenly flooded Marius's vision: Her defense at the attack on Rue Plumet, her smile each time she saw him, the pain in her eyes that he had never noticed when speaking to Cosette, the hidden hurt when he asked her to deliver the letter. The letter that had killed her. It was because of him.

"The rain that sends you here is heaven blessed! The skies begin to clear, and I'm at rest... A.. breath away... from where you are..." Her bleeding slowed with her heart, and her skin began to pale. "I've... come home... from so far...!"

"Hush-a-bye, dear Eponine, you won't feel any pain..." One of Marius's tears wet her lips. "A little fall of rain can hardly hurt you now. I'm here..."

"That's... all I need to know!" Eponine whispered, barely audible.

"And I will stay with you till you are sleeping..."

"And rain..."

"And rain..."

"Will make the flowers..."

"Will make the flowers..."

A soft sigh of happiness, and then silence. Eponine was not much more than a shell.

"Grow," Marius finished with a sob. He bent and kissed her on the mouth. He thought she might have felt it. Then he laid her on the ground and covered her with his stained coat. Enjolras let him be a moment before allowing Feuilly to wash Eponine's blood off of Marius's hands.

"She is the first to fall," he said slowly, staring at the body. "The first of us to fall upon his barricade."

"Her name was Eponine," Marius said, looking away from Feuilly and to Enjolras. "Her life was cold and dark, yet she was unafraid." He said it in such a way that Enjolras imagined he wanted to instill that memory of the girl in everyone's mind.

"We fight here in her name," Combeferre said soothingly, putting an arm around Marius as he fell victim again to tears.

"She will not die in vain." That assurance came from Prouvaire, who stood over the head of the body. Courfeyrac, silent with the shock perhaps, knelt at the feet.

"She will not be betrayed," added Lesgles. Courfeyrac and Prouvaire lifted Eponine's body and carried it to the edge of the barricade and laid her amongst the flowers still wet from the rain.

"Here comes a man in uniform!" reported Joly, having taken both positions for the time being as guard. Indeed, an old man had made it over the barricade. Joly looked at him warily; he was unarmed. "What brings you to this place?"

"I come here as a volunteer," he said in a strong voice that Marius recognized. He looked up at Jean Valjean as several students surrounded him.

"Approach and show your face," Joly instructed.

"You wear an army uniform," growled Feuilly.

"That's why they let me through," explained Valjean.

"You've got some years behind you, sir." Joly again.

"There's much that I can do," answered Valjean.

Joly nodded toward the tavern. Through the window, Javert's bound form could be seen. "You see that prisoner over there?"

"A volunteer like you," Grantaire finished as he looked Valjean over. Unable to put a face to the man, Valjean turned, but found his way blocked by Combeferre.

"A spy who calls himself Javert!" At this, Valjean tensed. The Inspector who had hunted him for years? Here, a prisoner of the barricade?

"He's going to get it, too!" Graintaire.

"They're getting ready to attack!" Joly called to Enjolras, who was coming upon Valjean quickly. He handed the old man a pistol and looked at his face. He could see no dishonesty there; only a truthful countenance. But one could never be too careful.

"Take this, and use it well! But if you shoot us in the back, you'll never live to tell."

"Platoon of sappers advancing toward the barricade!" Joly yelled. The blood had dried on his injured cheek.

"Troops behind them, fifty men or more!" Feuilly warned also. Abandoning the old man, Enjolras climbed to his post on the barricade and waited for the fighters to assemble. He then aimed his own weapon into the oncoming platoon.

"Fire!" he commanded.

Shot after shot rang out like rapid spasms of thunder. Explosions lit up the battlefield and ammunition penetrated the barricade. Behind him, Combeferre heard a sympathizer fall dead. The rest began to crouch behind the fortifications.

"Sniper!" Feuilly called, gesturing to his left. The man had a clear shot at Enjolras's head, but was prevented by an abrupt collapse of his skull. Valjean had dispatched the sniper, and Enjolras had looked too late. He glanced at his savior, but was quickly drawn back into the battle.

The platoon began to dwindle, and then a call was sounded. Retreat ensued. The students remained in their positions firing at the backs of their enemies until they had passed out of range. Lesgles laughed hysterically.

"See how they run away!"

"By God," Grantaire breathed, "we've won the day!"

"They will be back again and make an attack again," Enjolras reminded them icily. His brush with death was having an adverse affect on his disposition. He turned to Valjean and bowed partially. "For your presence of mind, for the deed you have done, I will thank you, M'sieur, when our battle is won." As he straightened, Valjean held up a hand and shook his head. The kindly, weathered, dark-skinned face held no pride in saving Enjolras's life. It was humble.

"Give me no thanks, M'sieur, there's something you can do."

"If it is in my power," Enjolras relented with some hesitation.

"Give me the spy Javert -- let me take care of him!"

Not far away, in the tavern, Javert overheard Valjean and Enjolras's conversation. He thrashed against his bonds and made his wrists raw with the effort.

"The law is inside out!" he cried. "The world is upside-down!"

"Do what you have to do," Enjolras said. It would make his troops happy. "The man belongs to you." He turned then to his men, assessing the damage. The barricade had taken a bit of a beating, and there were a few dead on his side, but none of the students. Feuilly was cleaning Joly's laceration up at their post. "The enemy may be regrouping," he said, thinking of the officer who had earlier tried to defeat them with propaganda from a distance. Something about those eyes haunted him, and would not leave him be. "Hold yourselves in readiness. Come on, my friends, back to your positions. The night is falling fast."

Valjean quietly crossed the barricade to the tavern, and stood before Javert whose face was hidden by the sack around his head. He removed it and threw it aside. Javert's eyes first fell on Valjean's face. The Inspector was wet with sweat, and his hair was matted. He no longer looked so cold or distinguished.

"We meet again," Valjean murmured.

"You've hungered for this all your life," Javert replied. "Take your revenge!" He lowered his eyes to the shining knife in Valjean's hand. His sneer mixed with a smile. "How right you should kill with a knife!"

Valjean lunged forward. He cut the ropes holding Javert's hands behind his back. "You talk too much," he explained at Javert's confusion. "Your life is safe in my hands."

"Don't... understand..."

"Get out of here!"

Javert stood and brushed himself off, turning slowly to leave. Halfway to the back door, he looked back to Valjean and clenched his fists.

"Valjean, take care -- I'm warning you!"

"Clear out of here!" Valjean repeated.

"Once a thief, forever a thief! What you want, you always steal! You would trade your life for mine; yes, Valjean, you want a deal! Shoot me now for all I care! If you let me go, beware: You'll still answer to Javert!" Javert's words sounded hollow on Valjean's ears, as if the policeman were saying them to reassure himself rather than to tear down Valjean. He raised his head high, the way he had always wanted to do in front of Javert, and aimed his pistol at his face.

"You are wrong," he said evenly. "And always have been wrong." He cocked the gun. "I'm a man no worse than any man. You are free, and there are no conditions; no bargains or petitions. There's nothing that I blame you for. You've done your duty, nothing more. If I come out of this alive, you'll find me at number fifty-five Rue Plumet. No doubt our paths will cross again."

Valjean fired the gun into the air. As Javert escaped, he could hear the muted applause of the students who believed Valjean to have shot him.

"Courfeyrac, you take the watch," Enjolras said outside. "They won't attack until it's light. Everybody, stay awake. We must be ready for the fight -- for the final fight. Let no one sleep tonight!" Then he turned to Marius, whose face was ashen and devoid of any happiness. As the defenders began to settle in their places, he touched the boy's shoulder. "Marius, rest."

Grantaire poured drinks into several cups and began to pass them out. Feuilly took a long swallow of his wine and looked to the people below him.

"Drink with me to days gone by. Sing with me the songs we knew."

"Here's the pretty girls who went to our heads!" added Prouvaire.

"Here's to witty girls who went to our beds," Joly said wistfully.

"Here's to them," the three chorused, "and here's to you!" They toasted upon the barricade.

"Drink with me to days gone by," Grantaire said softly, gazing into the darkness of his wine. "Can it be you fear to die? Will the world remember you when you fall? Can it be your death... means nothing at all...?"

From the side of the barricade, Enjolras spied the army officer watching the group closely. He began to sound alarm, but the man caught his eyes again. The two stared for a long time as they had done at their first meeting, then the army officer put a finger to his lips for silence. Enjolras watched as he disappeared back into the shadows. What could he do?

"Is your life just one more lie?" finished Grantaire.

"Drink with me to days gone by. To the life that used to be!" the students toasted again.

"At the shrine of friendship, never say die!" added a drunken woman.

"Let the wine of friendship never run dry!" was the reply from the man at her side.

"Here's to you, and here's to me!" they all finished.

Marius shook his head and laid down upon a bench, his eyes misty again, but also feeling dry and itching.

"Do I care if I should die? Now she goes across the sea." He was speaking of Cosette again. Enjolras looked in the direction of Eponine's resting place sadly. "Life without Cosette means nothing at all. Would you weep, Cosette, should Marius fall? Will you weep Cosette for me?" That was all the young man had to say before a desperate sleep overtook him. Despite Enjolras's orders, his troops had all fallen into slumber. Courfeyrac was the only one left awake; he sat drowsily at his watch. Enjolras climbed to the top of the barricade and assured Courfeyrac of his safety, then slipped down to the opposite side. He heard Valjean mutter something to Marius, but was not fully aware of what was being said. He had a far more pressing goal: To find the army officer.

Slowly he crawled amongst the shadows, pistol in hand, trying to be soft and quiet upon the loud earth. He visited the platform, but the officer was not there. He ducked beneath it and found him resting, just as the others were back at his camp. A soldier beside him cradled a bottle of scotch. There were not so many differences between the two factions.

The cocking of Enjolras's gun awoke the officer. He stared up at the man without fear and not once looked to the barrel of the pistol. Enjolras held it level for a moment before lowering it to the ground. He turned to leave, but soon felt a strong hand on his shoulder. He stopped and allowed the army officer to come around in front of him. The man was short; he had never realized how short until standing face to face with him. Never had he noticed the handsome features, either. The soft curve of the tip of his nose, the full lips, the thick blonde hair pushed into the beret, the long eyelashes fettering gorgeous emerald eyes that shimmered in the moon. Never had he noticed, either, the smallness of the hands. The man led Enjolras to a long, dark shadow cast by the barricade and sat down against a tree with him. He took off his beret. Long, golden hair fell to the officer's shoulders and Enjolras was able to see clearly his mistake.

"My name," the officer said, "is Martine." Enjolras stared at the woman and knew how Marius must have felt upon seeing Cosette for the first time. Something in his mind was certain that this girl was far more beautiful than Marius's beloved. He set down his pistol and removed his beret out of good manners.

"I am Enjolras," he said softly.


End file.
